Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

you speak to me about flaming lips
on fire in my regret.
you say wish you could be here
there's one seat left,
i grow older still
alone.

An amber leaf twirls upon its spindle branch
(Please do not hope for anything more,)
But hope is all I have

but was interrupted by the winds.
(for you know nothing about the way things are.)
to carry me through these cold days

And the amber blade breaks away from its home
(Find someone to sweep you off your feet,)
until I find someone to simply fly by my side.

and is carried away with the breeze*
(because that someone cannot simply be me)
Do you think that someone could be you?

Saudade)
This is a division;
a dissection of blood cells;
a severance of the colors on a canvas.
Separating waters - Moses' staff in the air.
We are singing parting songs into each other's eyes
because we are slurring our words across the pavement.
One final moment slips through the palms of our hands,
flows through the back of our minds,
and calls our hearts to break.
This is goodbye.

Retrouvailles)
And, after all of this,
I will see you again in
the brightness of dawn,
the twilight of dusk.

I will see you again in
the blossoms of Spring,
in the fervor of Summer,
in the colors of Autumn,
in the snowflakes of Winter.

I will see you again.
This is hello.

A 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera
A mixtape
Valentines Day

A tuxedo
A seafoam green dress
Prom night

A starlit road
A taste of your lips
Spring

A weeping embrace
A slamming door
Summer

An empty bedroom
A bottle of gin
Autumn

A silent girl
A disturbed boy
Winter

"I don't love you like I did yesterday"

and it will flow like oil.

It will grip like a lion's jaw
sinking into the flesh of my neck.

Nothing's about to change.
The vicious cycle of
reminiscence to
recession to
unresponsiveness
is a gift that just keeps on ******' giving.

Until I have nothing left to give.

I'm finished.

I feel you slip away
slowly--
like a breath of smoke
from my lungs--
at once foreign and
part of me.

You drift away
from my lips--
parting,
as if to say,
Goodbye?

Sultry smoke dissolves,
Tearing scars into
my lungs,
As you-- you
also burn inside
my chest(my heart)

and I watch,
with stinging eyes,
all the smoke
fades west,
into the wind.